


Peaches

by fanyoursolarsystem



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexuality, Character Growth, Coming of Age, F/F, Femslash, First Love, Lesbian Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, Lydia Bennet POV, Lydia Bennet centric, Mentions of Masturbation, Mentions of Sex, Nervousness, One Shot, Plus Sized Female Character, Southern United States, femmeslash, nervous lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanyoursolarsystem/pseuds/fanyoursolarsystem
Summary: Lydia wants so many things. Having spent the majority of the summer with her girlfriend, she's already sad for when Georgiana has to travel back up north for college. She's never been good at meaningful goodbyes. Is there a casual way to tell Georgiana her feelings for her? Is there ever really a right time to do so?
Relationships: Lydia Bennet/Georgiana Darcy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Peaches

There were a million things she wanted to do today. 

The small fan on Georgiana’s desk rattled in the effort to cool the entirety of the antebellum home. Lydia collapsed on Georgiana’s comforter and sank into the too soft fabric with a sigh. She was hit with the distinct scent of lavender and almost felt bad about having her sweaty back on it. Almost. There was always a small pleasure in leaving traces of herself behind in Georgiana’s all too perfect room.

Georgiana sighed happily when she entered the chilly room. To her credit, she didn’t flinch at the sight of Lydia’s dirty feet pressed up against the wall. She reached into her apron before pulling out a freshly picked peach from Pemberley’s vast garden and offered it to her. Lydia wiped her hands streaked with dirt on her pale blue tank top before she took the offering from her girlfriend’s too soft fingers. Nervousness wracked her. You would think the awkwardness of merely touching your girlfriend’s hands would dissolve over the course of a few months. Lydia could feel her cheeks flush as Georgiana smiled down at her softly.

Lydia bit into the peach— skin, grit, and all— to stop herself from saying something stupid.

Georgiana turned her back towards the bed, reaching up towards the frayed ties knotted loosely at the small of her back. Biting into the meat of the peach, Lydia rolled rather ungracefully off the bed. Taking the ends out of Georgiana’s soft hands, she carefully undid the knot she had tied just hours before.

“Careful,” Georgiana said timidly.

Lydia managed something close enough to acknowledgement through her teeth. She could feel the juice trailing down her neck and soaking into her already damp tank top. Georgiana’s mother’s name was barely legible on the fabric wrapped around Georgiana’s freckled neck. Would her mother have liked her? What would she have reacted to her daughter dating a girl with no talent, no future?

Georgiana’s skirt moved beautifully as she turned around to face her. “Thank you, dear.”

They were both so bad at this, Lydia thought. Both awkward, both thinking they were undeserving of the other. Georgiana flushed before standing on her tip toes to kiss Lydia’s cheek. She missed and Lydia felt like she was milliseconds away from breaking down at Georgiana’s soft nervous advances. It shouldn’t be so precious; it shouldn’t be so unnerving. Had she ever been this flustered in her life?

Georgiana let out a startled “oh!” as Lydia steadied her by gripping her elbows. 

The peach slipped from Lydia’s lips and landed with a soft squish onto the floor. 

Lydia could barely look at her sometimes. Georgiana’s cheeks were brightened by the several hours they had spent hand picking fruit and veggies from the garden. Georgiana had even taking her by the hand and tugged her softly, noticeably, to where her favorite spot on the raspberry trail was.

“I planted this one!” Georgiana said, beaming with pride. She practically lit the whole area. 

Lydia didn’t mind being tugged around the garden. Her girlfriend’s golden fingers in her soft brown ones made her wish she could take a picture of their clasped hands but feared ruining the moment. 

Georgiana’s freckles were actually blossoming on her cheeks. She had spent a good portion of the afternoon making Georgiana laugh as Lydia popped too many blueberries into her mouth straight off the bush while staring directly into her eyes. Lydia didn’t even like blueberries, she just liked the reaction it caused. She relaxed her grip on Georgiana’s elbows, her blue stained fingers slowly trailing up her arms until they reached her neck. Lydia was glad they didn’t leave little blue streaks behind . Georgiana’s shoulders were still warm from the sun.

Reaching around her neck, Lydia untied the knot with relative ease. She presented it to her, blushing, as Georgiana continued to beam up at her.

Too nervous for words, Lydia flushed at the close proximity. Would you believe that Georgiana has kissed her first?

“Can we make jam later?”

Lydia looked down to see the front pockets of Georgiana’s apron were weighed down with different fruit. The apples on the bottom were an amazing catch. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard when she saw Georgiana’s eyes widen at the ease of which she climbed the apple tree. There was something to that— something pleasant in still being able to surprise her. To surprise anyone really. Where others would admonish her, Georgiana delighted in it. She had told her to be careful getting down, laughing as Lydia hung off a branch with one hand. It was nice to be comfortable enough with someone, and know you wouldn’t get scolded for every little thing. It wasn’t hard falling for her Georgia Peach, almost ridiculously easy. The ground threatened to fail her as she jumped down from her vantage point. 

“I’d like that, Peach.” Lydia could hear Darcy laughing somewhere down below as she turned to drape the heavy apron over the back of Georgiana’s desk chair. She hoped none of the squished fruit would stain the antique furniture. Darcy and her were on good terms but she didn’t want to push it.

Georgiana sighed happily as she stretched her hands up towards the ceiling. Craning her neck in a circle, Lydia could easily peak her tan line when her loose shirt lifted to show her soft belly. Georgiana was always so self conscious about her figure when she really shouldn’t be. She understood why, as infuriating as the reasons were. Still. Lydia never quite knew what “curvy in all the right places” was ever supposed to mean anyway. She always figured it was the lazy way out for male writers to skip out on the descriptions of their self inserts’ all too perfect love interest. Looking at her now, at how the red skirt made her emerging sunburn stand out more brilliantly against her skin, at how her dark curls stuck to her forehead with sweat, how her long legs and knees were slightly streaked with dirt for where she had kneeled down to cut spaghetti squash fresh from the vines, Lydia finally understood it. 

Georgiana deserved the time it took to write all her blessings out on paper. Lydia wanted to place them at her feet like an alter. But she wanted to be honest, too. To relish in the fact that she knew Georgiana’s true laugh was a snort, that Georgiana had rather strong opinions about the music she was being forced to play in college, that she couldn’t stand the way her roommate would never remember to close the refrigerator door. Everyone who saw this tall and elegant woman admired her for her beauty, but they didn’t know the crippling anxious girl underneath. Georgiana, who only lately started trusting her own judgement rather than deferring to her older brother. Who asked Darcy if it was ok if she took Lydia around the gardens earlier before turning and asking if Lydia would like to do so at his affirmation. 

People are more interesting underneath, Lydia finds. There’s something special in knowing Georgiana trusted her enough to let her in. 

What had Lydia ever done to deserve this moment? To experience this sort of intimacy without the embarrassment, without the shame?

Georgiana smiled meekly when she met Lydia’s eyes. “What?” 

Lydia grappled with her words just looking at her. She was never particularly good with them anyway. There was too much to say and she had no idea where to start. Georgiana let out another nervous laugh when Lydia shrugged.

Sitting back on the bed, Lydia groaned as she let her head fall back onto Georgiana's pillow. God, her back hurt. They had picked so much today. Practically a mountain of tomatoes. Inspecting winding vines for cucumbers and snakes in one turn. Watching her painted toes match the brilliant reds of Georgiana’s favorite peppers. The way the failed corn crops swayed in the breeze much to Georgiana’s displeasure. Eating her weight in blackberries probably didn't help either. She rolled her shoulders and relished sound of her cracking joints when they filled the room. Anything to fill the space. 

Because how could Lydia begin really? What was a casual way to tell her that she had never looked so beautiful? Would Georgiana even believe her, or would she brush the flattery away nervously? Because it wasn’t flattery, it was the truth. It wouldn’t even be false modesty either. That was the thing. They had both been bombarded with meaningless compliments about their beauty for a lifetime. Lydia wished she could get Georgiana to believe her for a change, though. To see the genuineness of her intent. Maybe one day she could.

Georgiana sighed happily before sitting down next to her. She reached up and brushed Lydia's tangled nest of hair away from her eyes as if they had done so a thousand times before. Lydia could only focus on Georgiana's raspberry stained fingertips laying on her cheek, though, and distracted herself from talking yet again by pulling Georgiana down next to her. Lydia practically whined as she kissed her, Georgiana’s weight pushing her slightly into the mattress. She didn't want to think about later. She didn't want to think about how sad she already knew she was going to be for August 13th. She didn't want Georgiana to leave for New York, to leave her behind in an empty house with just her mother and father, to fill the space of Fall without her. And, yeah, she realized how selfish she was being. It wasn't enough to have her arms around Georgiana's soft back. She was never good at tomorrows. Now, though? This very moment? This was so much fucking better to think about. To be absorbed in. 

Georgiana still let out a startled but pleased “oh!” when Lydia kissed her. Would she ever get used to it? (Let's find out, Lydia thought, idly.) She’d try for the rest of her life if she was lucky enough to have that. Thinking of the future was more bearable following that line of thought. 

Georgiana practically coo'd against Lydia's lips. Fuck, how could one person absolutely loosen the screws holding your insides together? Lydia tried to convince herself it wasn't a weakness. Time would tell, she guessed.

A memory: George would made her stay up all night a few days straight with little sleep to continue a circularly argument she was never going to win. She wasn't like George. No, she was selfish, and short sighted, and stubborn like him, but she cared too much about Georgiana to rob her of all her time, her sleep, her future. Any comparison to George was enough to stop her from encroaching. 

That didn't stop her from daydreaming, though.

Lydia was a selfish person. She admired honesty enough to hold herself to that same standard. The thought had occurred to her before. Usually, idly, during the graveyard shifts when she's building furniture that she could never reasonably afford. The thought occurred to her when Georgiana's bright smile would greet her over facetime. When she was supposed to be doing homework but kept catching herself staring at the wall as she listened to Georgiana play on the other end of the line. She thought about it late at night, too, after telling Georgiana pointedly to go to bed, wishing she could climb right after.

Lydia wanted to nip at the nape of Georgiana's neck. She wanted to paw at the swell of her breasts. She wanted to kiss every inch of her, even though she knew herself too well to know she'd quickly want to devour as much as Georgiana as she could at once. She could almost feel what it’d be like to press her cheek against Georgiana’s hip, to kiss the top of her golden thighs, to massage her fingers into her stomach as she kissed her way down. There was so much she wanted to do.

She daydreamed when she was with George, too. Daydreams that seemed so stupid now in retrospect. The mere act of running away from the family that willfully misunderstood her was more exciting than the where and who she was running away with. How could they have stayed in California with no money? She never realized how truly desperate she was for freedom until he left her without her phone or her savings, her feet buried in the sand as she stared into the waves, wondering what she should do next. It was never like this. It wasn’t genuine, it wasn’t a kind longing. She could have been anyone to him. It didn’t matter in the moment. He just didn’t want to be alone. He could never stand being alone. 

She could feel Georgiana's back relax as Lydia raked her fingers through the thick curls at the base of her neck. Lydia wanted a lot of things that she could never possibly act for casually. What would it be like to have the back of Georgiana's thighs resting on her shoulders? She wanted to trace her tongue along the swell of Georgiana’s stomach she was self conscious about. She wanted to run her fingertips through the short curls above Georgiana's mound that she always pictured in the dead of night. She wanted to feel Georgiana squeeze around her fingers, her sweet scent lingering on her lips for hours afterwards.

Christ. She could smell herself. 

Georgiana put one tentative hand along the edge of Lydia's jaw.

Lydia grappled with a lot of things. Would the callouses on her fingertips leave marks behind on Georgiana's skin? Sometimes, late at night, during the worst nights, when the longing became a physical ache, Lydia wondered if she was really too broken to even deserve to touch her. It's not like Lydia thought Georgiana was too perfect to be touched. She just wanted to admire her, to drink her in, to make her cum. To make her feel safe. Sometimes she wondered if she would have to earn her keep to continue to be with Georgiana. Always endeavoring to deserve her. How lovely it is to be desperate not to lose someone for a change.

Georgiana pulled back, laughing. Being in the same room was too God damn overwhelming sometimes. Does she know that? Does she feel it, too?

Georgiana peppered kisses across Lydia's embarrassed cheeks. The small little points of contact making Lydia’s voice catch in her throat.

She wanted to say “I love you” before Georgiana left. Not that there's a time limit, nor a sense of urgency. Their whole relationship was built on FaceTime and text messages in the middle of the night. A confession face to face wirelessly would be completely alright in that context. Understandable. Modern. Accepted. Still, she just wanted to say it to her face. To admit it. To let Georgiana know without any pressure to say it back. Was it too soon for that? (When is the proper time?) Who knows. There doesn't seem to be a timeline for moments like this. Desperate to get things right, desperate to keep things going, while also wanting to be genuine and herself, Lydia often found herself beginning to say it before the words caught in her throat when Georgiana would turn towards her on the screen. 

She had almost said it in the garden. Any confession ruined, however, by tripping over a jutting tree root suddenly appearing beneath her, the world spinning. Her kind girlfriend helped her to her feet, kissing their clasped hands to soothe her. 

Georgiana collapsed softly down next to her, placing her cheek on Lydia’s shoulder. She sighed softly before closing her eyes, her freckles arm wrapping underneath Lydia’s chest. God, Lydia just wanted her to touch her. Even hesitantly, even nervously. The thought of Georgiana sucking on her breast had made her cum before. Just the thought brought heat to her cheeks.

“I’m already sad for August 13th,” Georgiana whispered into her skin. 

“You have no idea, Peach.”

Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe neither of them were. Georgiana, for all her nervous advances, probably wouldn’t ask her outright. Probably wouldn’t even know how to initiate it. Her nervous fingers laying on her breast would probably be too much at first. Lydia wanted a hickey before she left, but that might be too much, too. She wanted the feeling of Georgiana’s soft fingers inside her. Wanted to pleasure of her pubic hair stuck in her teeth, the feeling of her soft thighs around her cheeks. The little moan escaping from her all too proper lady. She didn’t know how to say it though.

There were so many things she wanted to say. It wasn’t like this would be her only opportunity. They thrived through late night phone calls where Georgiana would practice while Lydia tried her best to stay awake during a midnight shift. Love is palpable through the screen. It’s not worse, it’s not the easier option, it’s just different. Lydia can’t visit her whenever she wants (although a wild streak continues to run through her; this is who she is, she thinks, as she looks at her father’s car in the driveway, wondering how far she could make it without anyone noticing.) Distance is said to make the heart grow fonder, but honestly it just makes her yearn. Yearn, crave and desire. For the future, for the opportunity of them. The future didn’t seem like a thing that only future Lydia would have to deal with. It was tangible, it felt real. She had wants for her future outside of desire. She had plans for her future outside freedom.

Georgiana couldn’t be contained in her small phone screen, her laugh couldn’t translate perfectly from thousand miles away. Their long distance relationship wasn’t easier, it’s not meaningless, it’s just different. You only know if you know. Thankfully it didn’t have to be that way forever. She was working on ways to make sure it wouldn’t be this way forever. Maybe her father would be proud of her then, knowing she was planning for once instead of jumping head first. But maybe not.

Georgiana turned to her side and propped herself up on her elbow, looking down on her. “There are so many things I want us to do before I leave. Ride bikes through Piedmont Park, although I’m partial to Darcy’s gardens; go to the Starlight Drive in, even if nothing really good is playing; make some jam for you to take home…” Her voice became somber for a moment, but she shook her head as if to get rid of the thought. “Maybe we can bake a pie later, too?” Georgiana asked, the hope almost painfully tangible in her voice. 

For now, it was the small things. The way Georgiana’s warm skin contrasted against Lydia’s. How the calm of Georgiana’s breathing seemed to lull her into this calm even though the sun was still high in the sky and, normally, there was so much more Lydia would want to do before the day ended. It was the small physical contact, the fact that Lydia could turn her head and look into Georgiana’s eyes, could rise and kiss Georgiana’s already peeling skin on her cheek. Sometimes it felt like every visit was on a time limit. It seems too ridiculous to say that every moment was precious. That she didn’t want to waste time by sleeping, that Georgiana practicing the piano was time wasted, that Georgiana talking to her childhood librarian about the upcoming Christmas program made her want to drag Georgiana back towards her room. 

It’s just that… well, it was nice. It quenched her. Her whole life wasn’t Georgiana. There was something warm in the acknowledgement of her growth. There was a sort of freedom in finding someone you don’t have to hide away from. Understanding is all she wanted. From her family, from her friends, from anyone. No one had dug deeper, no one took true note of who she was internally. Georgiana calmed fires and talked to her reasonably without slipping into condescension. There was a freedom in knowing Georgiana trusted her. There was a freedom in knowing she could trust Georgiana with who she was. Is that love? Lydia wasn’t sure. It felt like it, though. Like a strong feeling in her chest, ready to break out, threatening to slip past her lips carelessly. Would that really be so bad? Would it truly?

Lydia smiled before pulling Georgiana against her chest. Her painted fingernails buried themselves in her mass of ruined curls and massaged her scalp softly. Georgiana coo’d. There was time. Time for adventures and decisions and revisions. For evenings, mornings, afternoons over a coffee table with cooling mugs, or in Pemberley’s gardens underneath the stars. The crescendo of a piano, the rhythmic clinking of her hand operated tools forging something tangible, the sound of Georgiana huffing at uncooperative fingers. There was all the time for intimate caresses, discovering if Georgiana’s moans were as musical as her abilities. There was time to discover If Georgiana loved her, too. 

There was no rush with Georgiana. That was her favorite part out of all of this. There was no rush. 

Lydia smiles against the top of Georgiana’s head, her skin warm with sunburn and nervousness. “We can do anything you want.”


End file.
